Spring arts preview profile: Michael Schweikardt

Call Michael Schweikardt an architect, and you're almost correct. He's also a mean painter, has the vision of a director and is a capable handyman. He's just as comfortable working in opera, musicals, or conventional theater, and his hand is seen in 15-20 shows around the country every year.

And at the end of almost every show he's a part of, someone comes along, dismantles his work and tosses it in the trash. That's the problem with being a set designer.

"I don't know how many people realize how temporary it is," explains Schweikardt, during a break from his installation for L'Amico Fritz at the Sarasota Opera.

When I walked in 30 minutes earlier, Schweikardt was dangling by his fingertips from the edge of stairwell on the outside of a faux Tuscan villa, as director Michael Unger and some stage hands looked on. "Don't hang off that," he informed them, as he dropped back to stage level and brushed his hands off on well-worn jeans.

This is the first time he's seen his design for this set in the flesh. Last year, Schweikardt met with the director and maestro, and listened to the music and read the Fritz libretto. Then came concept sketches back and forth until everyone was comfortable with the design. After that, it's mostly out of his hands, in this case sent to a carpentry shop in Portland, Or. that the Opera uses regularly. Call this first unveiling of the set a "fitting."

Schweikardt is comfortable around the stage, but not on it. His father was a musician who spent much of his career in the pits of musical productions and operas. When Schweikardt hit high school tried acting. "I enjoyed being onstage," he says, "but there was definitely a panic factor."

When he first started college at Rutgers, he still wanted to be in theater, so he signed up for Set and Costume Design. "I had no idea how to build a thing, but I could draw," he says, as he checks the weather in the Northeast, worried about making another gig in Connecticut. Unlike his easy fitting here in Sarasota, the Connecticut set has a little problem with a feature meant to simulate rain.

"Every time we turn on the water, we flood the stage," he tells me with a little shrug. "Flooding always seems to be a problem."

Here at the Sarasota Opera House, it's space. Stages are normally built to be easily assembled, but here that's amped up. The old building has very little storage -- just an open area to the left of the stage -- and runs four productions in repertory at the same time. The Fritz set has to be extremely modular, and must come together or break down in little time.

That's no problem for Schweikardt. "To do this you not only have to be good at problem solving, you have to enjoy it," he says.

When I ask him if he ever wishes for more recognition -- honestly, name a single set designer for a performance you've been to -- he gives me another half-smile and shrug.

"I think they go to the theater and people appreciate what they see, although I'm not sure they realize how many people are responsible for it," he says. "But it is nice to read about the set in a review."